


apricity

by loupettes



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Eve, Christmas Fluff, Domestic Fluff, F/M, Fluff, Found Family, Humor, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-11 05:40:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,990
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28290090
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/loupettes/pseuds/loupettes
Summary: She pulled out her make up bag, searching for her mascara. “Besides, if my forever isn’t enough for you then I’m quite offended.”He scoffed. “See the irony in giving time as a Christmas present to a time lord?”Ten x Rose, warm, fuzzy (domestic) fluff. Christmas Eve morning on the TARDIS, Rose and the Doctor are still wrapping presents for Rose's family.
Relationships: Tenth Doctor/Rose Tyler
Comments: 21
Kudos: 53





	apricity

“Right, and that’s your mum’s sister’s kids all wrapped and finished now, too.”

“What?” She looked up at him. “I’m wrapping Chloe’s now?”

“Oh.” The Doctor looked down at the pile of mismatched shaped and sized gifts wrapped in festive paper. “Well, then who’s are all these?”

“You haven’t been writing them as you go along?”

“Was I supposed to?”

She stared at him in disbelief. He’d perched himself on her bed, nearly lost in the sea of red and gold wrapping, sellotape sticking to his shirt and somehow some in his absolutely wild hair, his glasses resting unevenly on his nose. He sniffed in confusion and she shook her head. “Right, pass ‘em here, one by one, I’ll give ‘em a shake and see if I can remember.”

He released his breath in resignation. He reached for a small box, rattling it against his ear. “I definitely remember this was Daniel’s.”

“Daniel’s is already packed in this bag over here.” 

He blinked at her and she huffed. She helplessly searched around the floor for the Christmas gift list; maybe if she could match the shape and size to a gift, she might be able to guess who's was who's. “Never leave present wrapping until Christmas Eve,” she muttered to herself. “ _Every_ year.”

“Want me to stretch time out a bit? Give us a few more days?”

She scoffed. “I want you to go back in time and label the presents you’re wrapping.”

“I just feel like _anything_ would be easier than me going back in time, _rewriting my own history_ , to stick K-A-T-I-E in big bold letters with a sharpie on that slippers-shaped present there.”

“We got Katie _earmuffs!”_ she stressed.

“ _Earmuffs_ , that’s what I said!” 

Rose groaned, taking her reindeer headband off and chucking it on the floor. It was a chaotic mess; they were running late as it was, she still hadn’t finished wrapping her mum’s presents and she couldn’t find that bloody list to help find out which bloody untagged gift belonged to which bloody cousin.

“Hey, hey now, none of that,” he warned, uncrossing his legs to leap over to her. He crouched behind her, moved her hair to the side and began firmly kneading her shoulders. “Look on the bright side - we could unwrap them all now and it’ll be like a second Christmas morning.”

She chuckled. “Didn’t know you’ve always wanted a battery-operated fire truck.”

“Really? I feel as though I’ve been mentioning it in nearly every conversation.”

She tilted her head back to rest on his shoulders and he kissed her neck. She grinned, having no idea where he’d picked up this habit of spontaneously kissing different parts of her skin, but she had no complaints. It did seem to do the trick as well: she’d calmed down considerably and wasn’t half as stressed as she was before. 

“Ha!”

She jumped to his voice and he began fiddling with her pyjama pockets. Not fiddling, she realised, but pulling out the gift list. She sighed in relief, her shoulders relaxing even more. “Thank god for that. Right, get back to those presents and start shaking.”

“Yes, sir.”

She chuckled at the sight of him: shift sleeves rolled up, his tie loosened, gingerbread men pyjama bottoms to match. He looked like an absolute dork, singing away to _Wizzard_ on the radio with his eyebrows pulled in confusion as he compared the list to the pile of wrapped presents, and she loved it. He picked up a gift that was abysmally wrapped and she scoffed.

“How the _hell_ do you wrap an _actual square box_ so badly?”

He scowled at her, slamming the list down on his lap. “I’m doing you a favour here so, you’re welcome.”

“You said you were a master of gift-wrapping!”

“Oh, you know by now that I say a lot of things that aren’t always technically true.”

 _“What?”_ she laughed, neatly fastening a bow on her mum’s present. “Why would you lie about _gift-wrapping skills?_ You’re _asking_ to be designated gift-wrapper.”

“Same reason I say most other things. To impress you.”

“I’m currently sat on your ship, floating in a time vortex with all of time and space at my fingertips. I think you’ve done enough.”

He grinned wickedly. She wanted to smack it off his face, the cheeky git. “I impress you?”

“You misunderstood - _what you can offer me_ impresses me.”

“Doesn’t sound very much like Rose Tyler. Always more of a giver than a taker.” He gestured to the presents around them. 

“With you, it’s more like I'll _take_ whatever I can _get_.”

“You want to take more of me?” Again, that smirk, as he carefully balanced a large ribbon star bow at the top of his head and winked at her.

“No, think I’ve definitely had enough of you.”

“You want me to sort out these presents or what?”

“It’s _your_ mess!”

“Yes! And I’m being a solid mate by fixing it for you so, _again_ , you’re welcome.”

She shook her head in disbelief once more, turning her attention back to her mum’s present where she _carefully_ wrote her note and attached it to the present. She held it up to him. “Like this.”

“Oh, you’re very good at wrapping presents. You should have wrapped these ones, too.”

She glared at him, placing the present neatly on top of the other box for her mum and reaching to start the wrapping on her nan’s. The two were quiet, besides the occasional absentminded singing from either of them to the odd snippet of Elton John’s _Step Into Christmas._ She kept glancing over to him to make sure he hadn’t completely lost his mind, her heartwarming to the sight of him concentrating on something he knew meant a lot to her. 

She finished with her nan’s present, added it to the pile and began to unstick the various bows and sellotape from her person. She searched her floor; packing her backpack being her next task. She reached over to it where it was stuffed into the bottom of her wardrobe and, without removing herself from the floor, started stretching to search her draws for her bras and underwear, making sure to only pull out the nicer ones. Not like it made a difference, and she had even less of a chance of showing her granny knickers than Bridget had when she went on a date with Hugh Grant, but more in case he went searching through her bag and happened upon them.

The dulcet tones of Shane MacGowan and the single piano began to filter through the speakers and she smiled at hearing the Doctor mumble the words amidst his concentration on shaking the presents. He must have heard her quiet chuckle, because the next thing she knew, he’d scrambled off the bed and was reaching down to take her hands and pull her quick to her feet.

“What are you d-“

“Dance with me.”

“To the song about the homeless in New York having a shit time?”

“It’s a fairytale!” he insisted, holding her waist with one hand and her hand with the other. She gave in, reluctantly dragging her feet in slow circles to his more enthusiastic ones. Every now and then he’d strain his voice to sound like a drunk Irishman singing.

_“- came in eighteen to one!”_

It made her giggle though, despite her feet occasionally sticking to the sellotape on the floor. He paused dramatically for effect in waiting for the band to sound and the tempo quicken, and she knew it was coming, she winced in anticipation and groaned, before he finally pushed her into a much brisker dance than she’d like to be partaking in before midday on Christmas Eve. 

“If I tread on any of these presents because of your spontaneous desire to dance then you’re done for.”

“Didn’t we get your mum a foot spa? Seems awfully fitting if you _do_ hurt your foot stomping down on it.”

“We got her a _nail kit_ and a _dress_!”

She knew his bellowing of the words “ _when the band finished playing they howled out for more!_ ” was his more cordial approach to sticking his fingers in his ears and pretending not to listen.

She humoured him reluctantly as he guided them both in the most exaggerated and ridiculous of ways until the song slowed for its bridge. He slowed too, but only in pace; his overemphasised steps made her giggle despite herself. His giddiness this morning was near intoxicating and she leaned in closer to him; his movements softened so she could rest her head comfortably in the crook of his neck. The song sounded different from how she remembered it sounding somehow. 

He’d stopped singing, but she could still hear the smile in his faint humming. She braced herself once more for the part she knew was coming, where the tempo would increase once more and - as with the constant back and forth of their dynamic - she’d be yanked for this peaceful moment into a more chaotic one, but he never did. The band returned to its chorus, but he kept his movements slow. He’d stopped humming, but she imagined she could still feel his smile.

“Doctor?”

“Hmm?”

“Merry Christmas Eve.” 

“Now that’s the spirit!”

She gathered the courage to stand on her tiptoes and press her lips briefly to his, giving her just enough contact to confirm his smile.

“If that’s your thank-you for helping you wrap your presents today, then it was my pleasure.”

“Ha!” she scoffed. “And stop acting like all the tags don’t say ‘ _love from Rose_ and _the Doctor_.’”

He rolled his eyes. “You’re funny.” His hands slipped from her waist and she chuckled when he picked up one of the presents from the floor to check the tag. “Although maybe if you write it on your mum’s she might be a little more generous with my serving of the turkey.”

“You wish.”

He reached her bed and looked helplessly at the presents, his hands on his hips. “This is a disaster.”

“You’re realising this only now?”

“There’s at least fifteen presents here. I didn’t even think you had fifteen cousins.”

“I don’t.”

“Aren’t they all just generic presents? Can’t we give _Daniel_ the unicorn earmuffs?”

“I know you’re quite progressive with gender assignment but my 5-year-old cousin is not.”

He scratched his head. “How many more have you got left to wrap?”

“Just yours.”

He spun around, mortified. “No! _No_! You promised, _we_ promised!”

“God!” she laughed. “Calm down, ‘ course I haven’t got you anything. _We promised.”_

He grunted in mild defeat, plonking himself back down on the bed and tucking his legs underneath him once more. 

She pulled out her make up bag, searching for her mascara. “Besides, if my forever isn’t enough for you then I’m quite offended.”

He scoffed. “See the irony in giving time as a Christmas present to a time lord?”

“If you don’t want it I can return it. Still got the gift receipt.”

“Don’t you _dare!”_ he snapped, pointing his finger at her. His thoughts caught up to him and he lowered his hand. “I mean, it’s your choice. Up to you, as always.”

“Heaven forbid you dismantle your indifference at me choosing to stay.”

“Fine, you’ll have to pry your forever from my cold dead hands.”

“Merry Christmas.”

She spotted an eyeshadow pallet she rarely used, buried in the bottom of her makeup bag. She pulled it out, debated a shimmery gold, and decided to dab some on to test. She checked in the mirror, tilting her head to look at it from different angles in the light. 

“What d’ya think - oh, never mind,” she laughed when she remembered who she was talking to, chucking her makeup bag onto the pile of things to go in her backpack. 

“What do I think? Lots of things, right now I’m wondering whether I should-“

“Oh my god, no, please stop-“

“You look lovely.” He smiled, his voice gentle. 

She felt the heat flush in her cheeks; this morning had seen the Doctor so unexpectedly cheerful and at ease. She’d _kissed_ him and he _hadn’t_ thrown himself straight into the vortex. Instead, he was still here, quite content in wrapping presents and complimenting her _appearance_. 

“Christmas suits you,” she grinned, and he flashed her a smile in return. She nodded to his pyjamas. “That what you’re wearing today?”

He looked down, considering it. “Yep.”

“And you look _great_.”

“Thanks!” He seemed genuinely happy until he saw her face and realised she was being sarcastic. “Well, sarcasm _is_ the wit of fools, so who looks great now?”

She started stuffing all her clothes, makeup and toiletries into her backpack. “Less quips, and tell me how those presents are coming along.”

He sighed, turning his attention back to them with a look of resignation. “I suppose we’ll find out on Christmas morning.”

“How many times have I told you, we’re not seeing my family until Boxing Day!”

His expression clouded in horror. “So it’s just the whole day tomorrow with just _your mother_?”

“Think Bev’s coming about 5ish.” She supposed he was finally ready to throw himself into the vortex this time. “Oh, and Mickey’ll be there at some point, too.”

“Oh my god, it gets _worse._ ”

“Put it this way,” she began, keeping her face as straight as it could be as she teased at her courage to flirt with him, “I’ll find a way to thank you somehow.”

She normally revelled in watching him grow uncomfortable to her advances; especially recently, knowing that was playing the same game as her, but he didn’t this time. Instead, he cocked his brow, rapidly reclaiming the lead in their relationship and leaving _her_ the uncomfortable mess. _Why did he always have to do that?!_

“I’ll have to take your word for it.”

She fought to keep the blush from spreading furiously in her cheeks. He turned back to the presents and they spent a few more moments in silence focusing on their own tasks, listening to the radio in the background as Rose wondered how he’d managed to come out on top of that match. She had, once more, been put in her place for daring to challenge the Doctor’s stance on their relationship. 

“Right,” he announced eventually, standing up with the oversized Christmas gift bag filled with all the presents, “that’s done. I think. I hope.” 

“Same here.” She finished zipping up her backpack, motioning for him to put his bag next to her mum’s. “And when you say you _hope_ , what you really mean is you _know_ , right?”

He shrugged. “I signed them all with your name so if Callum _does_ end up opening Lucy’s _Bratz_ doll then it’s coming from you.”

“I don’t have a cousin Lucy.”

His brow creased and he looked back down at the presents. “Who’s the _Bratz_ doll for then?”

 _“Olivia.”_ She threw her hands up, exasperated. “And how did you get that wrong, you literally had the list in your hand!”

He scratched the back of his neck and shrugged. “You have far too many cousins, I’m doing my best alright?”

He looked so helpless, standing there in his obscene gingerbread men pyjamas and her reindeer antlers he’d at some point decided to adopt. She put her backpack down and pulled him into a hug. 

“Thank you.”

“Don’t thank me yet - I’m fairly certain someone’s missing a slipper.”

She chuckled. “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

She felt him kiss the top of her head gently, before mumbling something incoherent into her hair. 

“What?”

She pulled away from him and he looked guilty, reluctantly nodding to the floor behind her. She turned to look, internally screaming at the - _one!_ \- grey slipper on the floor by her wardrobe. 

“You are -” she groaned “- _spectacularly_ bad at wrapping presents.”

“Ok. I’m wiling to accept defeat on this one now.”

“Just, throw it in the bag and fix it when we get to mum’s. We’re running late as it is.”

“I’m a time lord" - he pinched the knot of his tie, a lot farther down his neck than he was used to, and lifted his head in pride - "I’m never late.”

“Tell that to mum when we show up late today.”

He picked up the slipper and grabbed both bags of presents as and she swung her backpack over her shoulder. She took one last look at the room around her before sighing. “I’m looking as though we’re not going to be parked just around the corner.”

“Rose?”

“Yes?”

He paused. “You really do mean forever, right?”

She could differentiate these days between when the Doctor needed a laugh and when the Doctor needed reassurance. His expression was not much an indicator; only giving the game away were his eyes and the tortured hopefulness behind them. They broke her heart.

“Every day of it.” 

“The gift receipt was just a bluff?”

“No refunds, and past the exchange cut off date, too.”

He grinned when she lightly scratched his head, sneakily taking the reindeer antlers and putting them back on her head instead.

“C’mon,” she said. “Mum text me earlier to say she’s doing that lasagne you like for lunch.”

“Rose?”

 _“Yes?”_ she insisted, only partially impatiently. She turned to face him, her hand on the door. His eyes were lowered and he looked… _nervous._ Her heartbeat quickened.

“Thank you.”

“For what?”

His gaze lifted, and her lips parted at the tenderness in the way he looked at her. He didn’t have to say anything, because she already knew what he was thanking her for. She saw it in the way he’d worn a small smile as he scanned all the names on the gift list, how he hadn’t shied away from her kiss, the way he sang the lyrics to the Pogues especially. She held his gaze and smiled.

“There’ll always be a place at the Tyler Christmas table for you.”

**Author's Note:**

> Requests always welcome @[loupettes](https://loupettes.tumblr.com/submit).


End file.
